The mosaic of my life!

As the wise would say "Hang on"; hang on for a little longer and the pain would subside. I've been living by it all those years. I foresee a lull and once it’s there, I strengthen my grip in spite of the excruciating pain. Its mind boggling and it drives me nuts but I have no option than to cling my jaws and tolerate. Soon after, I am delighted to see the back of it and assume that I'd never have to see it again. Yes, the wise were right to predict that it would certainly pass, but with that creeps in a feeling of happiness to never experience an agonizing thing of the past. But it comes over and over, again and again, with a stronger current and intensity, with a momentum that could blow you to bits. I am always taken by a surprise when I experience it yet again. And it makes me think, "Is it wise to believe that the surpassing blue moments don’t ever repeat?" I have experimented with a multitude of strategies but most of them failed until eureka happened t...

Shortly...!

This comes from the heart of India – Purani Delhi . Rajvir grew up amidst the hustle-bustle of the screeching Chandni Chowk , undoubtedly the most chaotic part of north India. Being the only son of the eldest brother amongst his father’s siblings, responsibilities and abiding by them had been an inherited trait for Rajvir. Rajvir’s life had been all about books, household chores and a seldom game of cricket in the inaccessible galis of Ballimaran . Rajvir’s father accumulated money for his only son to ensure he received the best education and a satisfying career. Rajvir went to an international school where his classmates would be offspring of the wealthiest and most influential personalities of Delhi and NCR. He always saw them happy, carefree and ignorant about the problems that existed in a poor man’s household. His family could barely pull out his tuition and he was proud of the sacrifices that his parents did for him. Wherein he saw his schoolmates being driven to school...

Vyolet was one of the tiniest and innocent rats living in the jungles of Tabrris. Tabrris was a remote land inhabited by tiny creatures and they would all live in peace and harmony. It was a small jungle where all the animals, birds and insects cohabitated and shared their bliss and misery. Vyolet as a kid never went to school and was a joyous and funny looking animal who always wanted to live a nonchalant life, unconcerned about fame and prosperity. Vyolet would happily live upon the blueberries and the walnuts dismantled from the trees by the violent winds coming from the west. He, like all other animals living in Tabrris would never succumb to the desires of luxury and popularity and was jubilantly performing his jester acts and earning love and respect from the forest animals. Adjoining the jungles of Tabrris was the jungle of Tethis. The animals of Tabrris believed that the land of Tethis was jinxed and the residing creatures imbued immense arrogance, snobbism and did not share an...

Hardly do I miss an opportunity to let go off my headphones hanging around my neck. But I’m glad it happened. I did lose the opportunity to listen to my favorite folk numbers but it gave me a lot of time to ponder over me and myself. Let me rewind a little, starting back from a couple of fortnights. After spending the busiest three and a three quarter months of my life amidst hectic school assignments, projects, part-time, team activities, exams and last but not the least – the stupid blondes at EVK, I ended up being on the losing front – two straight B+’s in two courses.; followed up with an A-, that if not resurrected the lost pride, but veiled the dishonor to some extent. But carefree and excited about having to end it all; I was living a gleeful life in SFO with my dearest and closest. Then suddenly in the middle of the day my phone rung; not even in my slightest of imagination did I expect an interview call and guess from where – PriceWaterHouseCoopers. No doubt I was exc...

I might not have the talent to script, But it’s not too late to let the moment skip. All those years I had been living under your shadow, I miss your hugs and caning, and I wanna let you know. Your face lights a sparkle in my eye, I forget all the pain, my heart begins to fly. Just the feeling of having you close to me, Brings in the desire to live, in-spite of all the pain, No matter what the world has to offer, Having you besides me overshadows all material gain. If I were given one last wish, I would happily die to live again by your feet. No words can describe your eternal love and sacrifice, But I wanna let you know Mom, I will keep loving you throughout my remaining life!

Looking back to September, I was totally new and unaccustomed to America. I brought with me the dream that the Gold Rush immigrants carried in the early 19 th century; the American dream that every desi lives up to from his younger days until he attains it. It unfortunately is badly tortured after reality spawns in and uncovers the shroud off a struggle that one has to abide by each day of his life. Los Angeles – “The city of angels”, to my astonishment was, if not swarmed but sporadically encountered by gentlemen asking for alms on the street. Gentleman for a desi because this guy still has a better accent; something he is so keen to imbibe. Coming back from a country amassed with poverty, illiteracy, extortion, corruption & crime and yet brimmed with self-obsession, I don’t have much to lament about. But I am about to stress upon the stressful life a desi lives dreaming about yet another interview at the US Visa Consulate. With great power comes great responsibility, maybe thi...